


Apologies

by Shadowtravelingtitans



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Issues, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowtravelingtitans/pseuds/Shadowtravelingtitans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy realizes the various mistakes that have led him to this point in his life. Now to make amends the only way he seems will fit.</p><p>A story of family. Slightly broken, slightly bruised.</p><p>But still full of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, long time no see. It's been exactly two years to the date that I've started this story with the promise of a second chapter. While I did have a plan in mind for how the story should end, these last two years have changed them dramatically. 
> 
> What was meant to be a simple, 2-part fic turned into a ten chapter story, full of my own headcannons of what this family is made of. I hope I've done them justice.
> 
> I also want to thank the people who've left kudos and took the time to write comments. In all honesty, I was ready to be done with this back in October of 2014. But you guys genuinely enjoyed it. You wanted more. Even after not having updated for a whole year, some of you still held out hope. 
> 
> Which is what I hope to accomplish with this piece: that there is always room for hope.
> 
> Thank you.

Percival Ignatius Weasley was many things. He was hardworking and driven. He was meticulous and rule abiding. He enjoyed tea and books, quiet and order. He was also foolish.

He was so very, very foolish.

Foolish for having thought that as a young ministry worker he knew more than his father. For not trusting his father. For not having faith in his family and Harry Potter. All the regrets that now kept him up at night. The constant reminders of what he’s lost due to selfishness and arrogance. The anger, the ever present anger, frothing inside him since the day he walked out of the Burrow. The suffocating rage at his father’s inability to understand, to _listen_ to him for once. The disappointment in himself for not taking the high road. The utter self loathing he at remembering every single instance he took for granted a family he no longer deserve. The utter despair at realizing that the family he loved had also taken him for granted one to many times.

So here he sits, eyes scanning the empty parchment, one hand holding it in place and the other gingerly holding a quill. He closes his eyes, willing the words he’s kept hidden for years to come out. And then he writes.

And he writes and writes and writes, until his hand aches. Until his throat feels rough at the sobs he holds back. Until the words he writes become blurs and his vision becomes misty. He writes until he feels every broken piece within him. He writes as if these letters are his last connect to this world. And if Percy is truly honest with himself, then maybe they are.

* * *

 

_To Harry Potter:_

I would like to start this apology by thanking you for all that you’ve done. I apologize for not believing when you stated that Voldemort was back. Please, understand that I was in a tough situation with my family and well, I judge you harshly despite the fact that you’ve never shown cause for it. When you announced the Dark Lord’s revival I felt more comforted by a fabricated lie then I felt facing the cold, hard truth. I put my blind trust in the hands of a corporation then in those who’ve never truly wanted to cause me harm, and for that I am truly sorry. I apologize for trying to paint you as a villain to Ron and my family. In fact, you treated them better than I ever did, to which I am tremendously grateful for. I wish you the best of luck with all that you do. Take care of my family for me now that I’m gone, especially Ginny. I’d threaten you in a good ole fashioned older brother nature, but I’ve lost that right with my actions. Besides Ginny has always been able to hold her own. You’ve been warned. Thank you for making her happy again. 

* * *

 

_To Oliver Wood:_

I’m sure you’re quite surprised to find this letter. In all honesty, I wasn’t exactly sure how to write this one or if I should have even written it. Well, if you’re reading it that means I finally lived up to my house standards and sent it. I know during our years at Hogwarts we were never really close. You tried, I remember, you tried for a while to bring me in, to be my friend. And for a while I let you. I liked the attention you gave me, I liked that you noticed who I was. And I know it was cruel of me to shut you out suddenly. I ignored you, I belittled you, and scoffed at your Quidditch ambitions. In truth, I was afraid of my feelings for you, because I was getting too attached. So I pushed you away.

But you never really left. You’d get mad, sometimes you’d yell and other times you would get so quiet, I thought that I had finally made you see the real me. Except you never abandoned me, until the end at least. Though I guess that was more my fault, first I left my family, and then I refused to be seen with you. I bet you believe I must hate you. Well, that’s not the case. And I can’t really stall it anymore, because this will be my last chance to ever tell you.

I love you. It’s that simple, yet so bleeding complicated at the same time. Merlin, Oliver Wood, I’ve loved you since you first introduced yourself on the train ride to Hogwarts. It’s because I loved you that I pushed you away, because well, look at you. You’re a great man Ollie, tremendous and for that you deserve someone who can complement you. Someone who won’t shy away, who’ll choose you every time, who’ll love you till the end, and love even in those moments when you don’t think you deserve it. You deserve someone who’ll care, who can support you, who can give you bloody children.

I can’t. You deserve someone who’s _normal_ not someone like me. If you’re disgusted by this letter, I’ll understand. I’m a vile person, for loving you. I just hope I haven’t sullied all of your memories of us together. They and this letter will be all that’ll remain in the end.

I love you, Oliver Wood and I am so very sorry.

* * *

 

 _To Ginerva Weasley_ :

I know you hate that name, but you should give it more credit. It’s as elegant and powerful as it’s owner. My how much you’ve grown while I was away, you’ve become quite the lady. I apologize for not being there when you needed it most. I’m sorry I abandoned you, not just after Voldemort’s return, but during your first year at Hogwarts too. I am so sorry for not having been a good big brother. You deserved better. I know you’re angry, which you have every right to be, but please if nothing else know that I love you and that I wish you the best. I know you’re a very capable woman. You’re strong, stronger than I ever was. You’re brave, you’re kind, and I am so proud of who you’ve grown to be.

I hope that you and Harry have a prosperous life together. One where you can learn that it’s alright to be vulnerable again. One where you remember how to laugh and love life, instead of looking at it through darken lenses. I remember a time you used to smile and laugh without a care in the world. I’m saddened that I am part of the reason why you don’t anymore. I love you Ginny, my baby sister. I love you and I won’t ask for your forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it. I just hope you understand, it’s best this way. Take care of Mum and Dad, the way I couldn’t.

* * *

_To Ron Weasley:_

I am so proud of you. I don’t know how often you’re told that, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I’ve always thought of us as kindred souls. You probably don’t want to be compared to me and that’s understandable. What I mean to say is that both of us have shared the feeling of not belonging. So for me I want to make sure that you know that I’m proud of you. I know that you feel inadequate compared to Harry Potter, but I want you to know that you are just as much of a man as he is. As for Hermione, I don’t require any previous knowledge of love matters to know that you’re the one she wants. Therefore chin up my young man, you have so much to be thankful for. You’re as brave as any gryffindor I’ve ever met, so don’t feel less than they do. Mother, father, and all of us are proud of who you’ve grown to be. Especially me, because even though we shared the same thoughts of loneliness and rejection, you were a man and rose above it, while I simply pushed everyone away. So stay strong for our parents, you’ve made them proud. I wish you a happy life with Hermione, and I hope you accomplish all you wish. I love you Ron, don’t forget that, because I know I won’t. And I hope you understand why I’ve done this, even if you can also never forgive me.

* * *

 

_To Fred and George Weasley:_

I know we’ve never really been on good terms with each other, you always pranking me and myself always trying to be someone I’m not cut out to be. But I want you both to know that I’ve never hated either of you. A shocking revelation, I know, but it is true none the less. Of course I’d be lying if I said that all your pranks were harmless. In fact a lot of the times you both decided I was the best to prank only served to reassure me that maybe I didn’t belong. I spent years thinking that you both hated me, that I was some plague on your fun time with others. And nowadays I can see why. I am a prat, I’m arrogant, I’m foolish, I obviously cannot determine between what’s right and wrong. But deep down I can’t understand why I’m not allowed to make mistakes, but everyone else is. But I digress, this isn’t a letter for those types of topics.

What I want you both to essentially get out of this letter, if you read it this far, is that I love you. Ever since mother came home with both of you wrapped up in your matching outfits and blankets, I loved you. You both were my first baby brothers. I wanted to be someone you looked up to, I wanted to be the one who taught you cool things and built stuff with. I wanted us to hang out and annoy the crud out of Charlie and Bill. I’ll be damned, but I even wanted to get you both involved in pranking. Ironic that I would enjoy something like that, yet what’s even more ironic is that I got you your first pranking device. Simple water balloons from when father went to the London. I believe you both were two, or three. I filled them up for you, and you guys took off running up and down the stairs, flinging those darn things at people left and right. Poor mother almost had a conniption, but deep down I felt so happy. I felt like I belonged with someone in our large family.

I can’t really tell when all that changed, when I started being the butt of the jokes and stopped enjoying what was around me. Maybe I became too full of myself, I’ve always had that problem. All I know is out of everyone of our family, I miss you both the most. You're my baby brothers, I love you more than you can imagine...or believe in this case. Maybe because with you both I didn’t think I’d be lonely anymore. Don’t tell anyone this, but you guys are my favorites. I hate whatever ripped us apart, and I hate it more because I can only blame myself. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused and will cause you both and the family. I just hope that even if you don’t forgive me, you’ll at least understand.

* * *

 

_To Charlie Weasley:_

I don’t quite know how to start this particular letter, I mean how did you do it. How did you follow what you believed in and yet not completely rip apart the family? How? Please tell me because I don’t think it’s bloody fair. Then again what is. You are probably the most frustrating one to write a letter to, you know that? I mean I spent years wishing to be you and for a long time when I was younger you made me feel okay once the twins realized I wasn’t interesting.

Remember when I used to have nightmares and you’d let me sleep in your bed? I do. Remember when I was afraid of getting on the broomstick because the mere idea of being in the air would paralyze me with fear? And then all of a sudden you came along with your broomstick and told me to hold on and not be afraid? I do, because that was the one time I ever flew and didn’t worry about what I’d look like at the bottom. You made me feel safe. But that changed. You ‘grew up’, and had no more use for annoying, uninteresting brothers.

Remember when I’d ask you for help with flying lessons and you embarrassed me by saying that ‘if I don’t let you fly on your own, then you’ll never leave me alone.’ I do. Remember when I asked if I could sit with you at lunch and you just blew me off because, ‘don’t you have studying to do?’ I do. Remember how I hinted that I liked Wood a little more than a friend and you yelled at me to stay away from him? Told me I was broken? Cause I bloody well do. And now here we are, years later, and you have the audacity to say that you were always there for me? After years of having you side with the twins on pranks that literally made me wish I could crawl in a hole and rot, you dare say that what I did was wrong? You left too you know. You left too, and you didn’t look back. So why am I the black sheep? Why am I the villain?

You were the adventurous one, the one who was a rebel. Bill with more pizzazz, more oomph. And all I wanted was some recognition, but you blew me off. But even now I still love you. Even after you hurt me and told me I was broken, that I was made wrong I still love you. And I forgive you, cause that’s what brothers do. Or at least that’s what I was taught to believe. Some rules don’t apply to me. I’m sorry too, because I understand that I wasn’t all that great either. Far from it in fact. Still, I hope in the end you’ll understand. I’m sorry, Charlie.

I hope the dragons treat you well.

* * *

 

_To William Weasley:_

For some reason I believe you’re the most disappointed in me. Maybe because you’re the oldest or because I missed your wedding. Or maybe because you knew I was always going to be the black sheep, but still hoped I’d beat it. Well, I guess miracles don’t happen. The thing is, I admire you. While I wished to grow up and be like Charlie, I also wished that when I grew up you wouldn’t mind having me around. When I was little you sort of shoved me aside, because I was, well little and annoying, and I drooled a lot. Deep down though, I felt that if I mixed Charlie’s adventure with your grades and Head Boy status I might gain your attention. I don’t know when I realized that I could never be you or Charlie.

I know it’s why I might be so bitter, so angry, so sad, so bloody irritated. No matter what I did I still felt worthless compared to you. It isn’t your fault, you were just the most convenient person my brain could compare me to. It just stinks because you are perfect and I never will be. I’m sorry I missed your wedding, I just couldn’t face you all. Not then, Not ever. I can only imagine how beautiful it was, you and your wife, our family together celebrating each other's happiness. You deserve all those good things. You also deserve a good brother, which I am not and I’m so sorry for that. I’m so sorry for all of it. I love you and I wish you the best with Fleur. You’ll be a great husband, Bill, and a great father. You’ll be fine.

* * *

_To Molly Weasley:_

Oh mum, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you after all that you’ve done. You deserved such a better son. I can't bear to know what I’ve done to you. I didn’t want to leave, I just didn’t feel I had a choice. Mum, I love you so much. Thank you for being there. Thank you for reading to us about the Tales of Beedle the Bard. Thank you for singing lullabies when I got scared and Charlie stopped caring. Thank you for trying to understand me when others stopped. Thank you for being my mom and for loving me despite all my faults and my mistakes. Mum, I love you.  I wish I could turn back time just for you, so that I could be your little boy forever. Sit on your lap as you patted my head and listened to me complain about the twins. Mother I love you so much, but I’m afraid I’ll end up hurting you one last time. Please forgive me for all the horrible things I’ve done, all the vile things I am, and for what I’ll eventually do.

I love you, Mum.

* * *

 

_To Arthur Weasley:_

Hey dad.

I know that I’ve been a horrible son and that I let my pride, my stupid dreams,  and my ambitions get in the way. You were right and I’m sorry I didn’t listen. Please understand though, that I deserved to be angry. I spent my whole life trying to please you. My WHOLE life trying to make you recognize ME for my OWN achievements. Do you know how much I hated being compared to the others, how much I wished that you could only pay attention to me.

When I walked in that day with my promotion I thought you’d be proud. I was waiting for ‘Wow, my boy is doing splendid at the Ministry. I’m so proud of him.’ Yet you didn’t. You just yelled at me, told me I was stupid and naive and you were right but damn if it didn’t bloody sting. You couldn’t even pretend to be happy. That’s all I wanted, was to make you proud. I’m sorry for what I said, the comments about your job. I sounded vile, I was vile, but truth is I’m envious because I’ll never be able to love my work with the same passion as you.

I remember when the twins were younger, you took me to London to get them something. I walked into a muggle store and saw these latex water balloons. They were up really high and I reached and reached, but I was too small. Then I felt your big hands around my tiny waist lift me up so that I could grab them. I felt so big and safe and loved. I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I miss that dad, I miss you. I’m so sorry for what I said, I hate myself for it because I know I hurt you. I never wanted that.

All I wanted was for you to look at me the way you looked at Bill when he became Head Boy, when Charlie became the Captain of the Quidditch team, when Fred and George said Dada at the same time, when Ron beat Uncle Bilius at Chess when he was six, hell when Ginny was born. I wanted to be looked at like that, with love and pride. I know I was never going to be your favorite son, but you were my favorite. You were my hero.  I just wanted you to see me as who I was, someone to be proud of. But I messed up and you didn’t care enough to stop me from leaving. So I guess this is goodbye. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the son you wanted, but you won’t have to deal with that for long. Thank you for being my dad, even though I was never a good son.

I love you, Dad.

* * *

 

Putting the quill down, Percy looked down at his letters. All perfect and pristine, the exact opposite of what he was, but exactly what everyone believed him to be. Smiling he leaned back on his chair as he held a picture between his aching hands. He lightly traced over every face on the picture, lingering the on his father’s. He blinked back more tears that threatened to fall from his sore eyes as he looked at his family once more.

¨This is good, this is how it should end.¨ At least this he couldn’t muck up. This he had done right.

  
At last.


	2. Oliver

Percy awoke to the sound of incessant knocking at his door. He looked at his watch, small muggle knick-knack, and read one o’clock in the afternoon. He groaned and a buried himself further under the covers. 

“Go away.” came the muffled voice. The knocking stalled. Perhaps they got the message. Percy was proven wrong when it continued, somehow louder than previously. He groaned once more for good measure and flung the sheets off of himself. He slowly, with heavy restrain, moved off the bed and draped himself with a robe. His red hair matched the color of his anger for whoever dared to knock at his door. 

Percy grabbed the knob with a force that almost twisted it off, pulling the door towards him. He was about to yell when his voice got caught in his throat. There in front of him was the spectacular Oliver Wood. He stood staring at Percy, as if he couldn’t believe he had actually opened the door. His hair was disarrayed, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and in his left hand, a little crumbled up was Percy’s letter.  

Percy cleared his throat, jolting the Puddlemere keeper to life, who in turn reached out and wrapped the Weasley in a tight embrace. It had been awhile since he had had any physical affection shown from anyone, but he returned the embrace anyway, flinching when he heard Oliver whisper “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

After a few more moments Percy pulled away, staring at anything but the man in front of him. 

“Why are you here Wood?” Said man snorted humorlessly.

“Why am I here? You send me a love letter with a definitive ending and you’re asking why I’m here? Percy, what’s wrong?” Percy forced himself to at least look at Oliver. He sucked in a breath, bracing himself. 

“What’s wrong? I admit my affections for you, via letter, in the hopes that maybe you would be kind and keep it to yourself, and now here you are, ready to berate me and to tell me how disgusted you are, and-” 

“Stop.” Oliver interjected, holding his hand up in an impeding motion. “I’m not here to yell at you. You know that, this is just you pushing people away.” Percy made an undignified sound, making Oliver laugh.

“It’s true. I lived with you for seven years at Hogwarts. You send out a cry for help, then you push that help away. I’m not going away, Perce.” The quidditch player could hear his friend sniffling.

“You’re an asshole.” “Yes, but you have a crush on this asshole.” “Shut-up.”

* * *

“Where do you wanna start?” Oliver had managed to convince Percy to let him in. Now was the hard part of the task, getting Percy to talk.

“I don’t. I don’t want to start. At all.” Percy replied from his couch. He looked like a toddler, huddled in a blanket, legs tucked underneath himself. And he was pouting. The Puddlemere keeper pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breathe. He sat down next to his friend, giving him a concerned look.

“Perce, you’re not gonna feel better if you don’t talk about it.” He heard his friend groan and felt a weight on his shoulder. He looked down at the red haired blob trying to decipher what he was mumbling. “Sorry mate, what was that?” A huff this time.

“Do I have to.” “Yes, yes you do.” Percy straightened up and struggled to find the words.

“Well, it started like this. I got home after work, it had been an excruciatingly long day. It was utter chaos and I was getting ready to leave when suddenly Mr. Fudge comes into my department to pull me aside. He then proceeds to ask me all sort of questions about Mr.Crouch and his behaviour. Now I had had enough interrogation about this when it was first announced that he was dead, so hearing  it once more was putting me on edge. Suddenly he smiled, it was something I had said, I just can’t remember what it was. But the key thing was that he smiled and suddenly I was getting offered a promotion. To work with him and the other heads of the departments. I was flabbergasted I didn’t even think about how, how, oh was the word? I think the muggle next door to me would use the term, ‘shaddy?’ It was bizarre and I told him I was grateful, but I would need to sleep on it. He looked annoyed at that, but he relented saying he understood that a big decision like this would take a lot of thought.”

Percy suddenly got quiet, contemplating on whether to continue with his tale or not. Oliver placed his hand on Percy’s shoulder urging him to continue.

“I got home. I told my father. I flipped out. There’s really nothing more to it than that.” He continued stiffly. Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Bullshit, what happened.”

“Ollie, that’s what it was. I can’t add anything else, because there is nothing else to add.”

“Bullshit Perce, you know that’s bullshit. You’re oversimplifying it. What did he say? How did you feel?” Percy scoffed.

“How did I feel. Ha, I felt what any normal human being would feel if all their dreams and aspirations were reduced to a mere child’s prayer. I was angry, furious. Argh, I just wanted to scream and yell, possibly throw things. Honestly, what type of father looks at their son and says, ‘Percy, don’t tell me you’re that stupid and naive to believe that nonsense.’ Nonsense, my dreams and goals are nonsense now? Well I apologize for not being able to deal with runes for the rest of my life, or you know, drop out of school and open a bloody joke shop. Oh and I’m truly sorry I never packed my shit and left for Romania, that would have made you proud, right? Maybe if I became mates with Harry Fucking Potter you’d care? Maybe then you’d be proud of me, maybe then you’d appreciate me, maybe then you’d love…...love me.” 

Throughout the entire rant, Oliver watched as Percy jumped off the couch and paced back and forth, hands gesturing wildly in the air. The movements growing more and more erratic the angrier he got, until finally at the end he deflated back into the couch. Head lowered into the palm of his hands. Oliver watched his friend for a few seconds, letting him calm down himself, when he heard Percy mumble again.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence. And then. “Why doesn’t he love me anymore, Ollie? Aren’t father’s supposed to always love their sons, regardless of how foolish they are?” The former gryffindor quidditch keeper wrapped his arms around the lanky ex-Head Boy, as he broke down sobbing. Muttering over and over and over, ‘What did I do wrong?’, ‘Why do they hate me?’, and ‘I just want my family back.’ Oliver could only hold him.

* * *

 

After what seemed like forever, Percy finally stopped sobbing into Oliver’s chest. And while he was not adversed to laying on Oliver’s chest, he had imagined a different scenario. He took a deep breath and reluctantly he sat up and put some space between his crush and himself. 

“I’m sorry about all this.” He accentuated with a wave a his hand. “I just. I haven’t really talked about it. Sure I know people in the Ministry, but I’m not close to anyone. I’ve never really been able to make friends as easily as most people. You know, you remember, my personality is apparently hard to get along with. And then Penelope has spent the last year snogging her fiancé, Marcus Flint, which I still have yet to figure out how that happened. And you…” He took a deep breath, eyes focusing on the blue stain on the carpet. 

“What about me, Percy?” The redhead closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. 

“I was afraid to tell you. I was afraid that you’d hate me, too. I couldn’t stand to imagine you hating me. “ Percy was still trying to avoid looking in Oliver’s general direction, when he felt a hand on his chin gently leading his face away from the mysterious blue stain, and up towards Oliver’s face.

“Percy, look at me.” Naturally, ever the obedient one, he did as he was asked. He brought his eyes up to stare into the chestnut brown one’s that had plagued his dreams for years.

“Percy, I want you to know that while I could probably get mad at you, I could never hate you. I can’t hate you. You’re so smart and dedicated, so ambitious. That’s not all though, you’re kind and fair, which I think is the part that most people don’t take the time to see. But I see it, I’ve always seen it, and I hope someone who truly deserves you sees it. You have a good heart Percy and I’m sorry that so many people have taken the liberty to use that against you. But that’s still no reason to hide yourself and lock yourself up in this bland routine of sleep, work, sleep. It’s killing you Percy, I can see it. “ The hand that had been on his chin slid down to his neck, thumb resting on his cheek, gently caressing the soft skin. 

“I need you to live, in every sense of the word. I need you to be alive. I need you to keep following your passion. To keep trying. To keep loving. To keep fighting. To keep forgiving. To keep writing reports on cauldron bottoms and to keep caring about the littlest details because that’s what you do. Merlin, Percy, I need you.” He had brought his other hand to Percy’s neck, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that slowly fell down from his eyes. He felt thin, delicate, a little calloused from writing hands wrap around his wrists, squeezing gently. The man whose face he held like a precious pearl blinked, causing more tears to cascade down his cheeks. 

“But how Ollie, how does this work.” he whispered, a little hoarse. “I’ve spent so long being angry and resentful and, “ sniffle, “and I just, how do you forgive yourself for something like this? How do I look at myself every morning and not hate the very fiber of my being? I hurt them Ollie, I hurt all of them. I know, I know they hurt me as well, but they’re my family Ollie, I can’t help but love them. You know, they’re,” sniffle, “they’re supposed to be in my life right now and they’re not. And I don’t know if it’s my fault or their fault, and in all honesty, none of that matters. 

“I just want my family back. I want Fred and George’s off-handed comments. I want Bill to annoy me with how wonderful his wedding was and how beautiful Fleur is. I want Charlie to tell me about the Norwegian Ridgeback and about how much he loves to breathe in the forest air in the the cold mornings of the winter. I want mom yelling at Ron to eat more vegetables while Ginny’s behind her, sticking her tongue out at Ron. But most of all, I want my dad Oliver. I want him to look at me and see me. Not Prefect Percy, not Head Boy Percy, not traitor son, ministry lover Percy, just plain old Percy Weasley, his son. I want to be his son again.” 

They sat there for a while, just listening to each other’s breathing, one calm and one a little shaken. Oliver looked around the little makeshift living room of Percy’s apartment, not all that surprised to find a decent sized bookshelf. It looked a little run down, kind of mixed matched, as if someone had taken different pieces of wood and nailed it all together. His eyes scanned the contents, taken in everything from old textbooks, to ministry handbooks, to a copy of the infamous cauldron bottom report. It seemed devoid of anything emotional, until he squinted a little and noticed.

Noticed the pamphlet of the twin’s joke shop. Noticed the how-to-knit book barely peaking out behind some tomes of Arithmancy. Noticed the small yellow rubber duck perched just above the last shelf, all the way up, out of eyesight for those who are just glancing. He looked back at his friend who had taken to staring at the same blue stain once more and smiled. Yes, Percy always had a big heart and it was his job as his friend, maybe someone more, to help him fix that shattered organ while his family got their crap together.

“Say Percy?” Said man turned his head slightly, but didn’t remove his gaze from the mystery stain. “Do you wanna go out to eat? I heard there was this awesome muggle Chinese place, just down the street from here.” He slowly got up, straightening out his clothes, before turning to look back at Percy. He extended his hand out to his friend, smiling when said friend took his offer and he helped him off the couch. 

“That’d would be lovely.” If possible Oliver’s smile grew bigger. “Perfect, now before we go I think you should change out of your pajamas. As much as I love purple pants with cupcakes on them, I don’t think the owners of the restaurant will enjoy it.” Percy blinked and turned as red as his hair.

“Shut-up!” He squawked. Oliver just laughed.


	3. The Golden Trio

“What a bloody git.” Ron huffed, crumpling up the letter into the smallest ball he could and chucking it at the door. Harry rolled his eyes, sighing in response.

“Seriously mate, who in the bloody hell does that prat think he is? First he insults our father, than he decides to play the victim with us? That wanker!” He ranted around about the room, pacing back and forth with such a heavy foot that Harry was sure the students below them were terrified. 

Harry took a second to let his eyes wander over his own letter, taking in the content once more. If he was being honest with himself, he really didn’t care whether Ron’s older brother believed him or not. He even cared less about whether he apologized, though he guessed it was comforting that now the ministry was aware of Voldemort’s return. Barely.

What was getting to him was the tone of the letter. He was no genius, Harry could admit to that, but he knew this type of emotion. It was something he had felt for years before he could actually identify it. He remembered it from the time he lived with his aunt. He remembered it from the time he lost his godfather. He was always very familiar with the scent of death to come. The letter itself expressed a finality that made Harry nervous. 

Harry never acted on his suicidal thoughts, mostly for the fact that he knew people would miss him. Dudley was an arsehole, but every now and then he had been a tad bit kind to Harry. It was one of those things you could never forget. And so he stayed because he wasn’t sure how Dudley would have fared as an only child, even if he was treated as such. 

And once Ron came into his life, bringing along the rest of his clan and Hermione appeared, with the slight muggle familiarity that eased Harry that he wasn’t completely alone as a first time magic wielder. Well, he had found his family. He couldn’t just leave them, he loved them too much. He needed them just as much as they needed him. Not just for the war’s sake, but for their own. 

Deep down he knew that Percy didn’t have that. Of course, Harry knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loved their son. He could see it when they spoke of him, eyes bright with excitement and chest puffed with pride. And he also knew that his siblings loved him. They all talked badly about him when he left, there’s no point in denying it. Yet afterwards, when their rant was over they seemed lost without him. Like they were waiting for him to pop out from behind one of the many doors and start yelling at them about how rude it was to talk behind others backs. Or how they should be focused on their school work. They just waited for him.

Percy didn’t believe any of that. Percy thought they hated him, and if Harry were in his shoes, he would have thought so too. Percy probably felt completely lost and alone. So why not kill yourself if you don’t think anyone will truly miss you. Harry turned his attention back to his roommate and sighed. Ron was still going at it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione picking up Ron’s crumbled letter and reading.

“I can’t believe he thought that he could just apologize through a letter. A bloody fucking letter! I can’t stand him.” He accentuated that last sentence with some well placed kicks on his bedpost. 

“Ronald I think you should pay more attention to this letter. I’m concerned for your brother.” Ron scoffed, tilting his head in Hermione’s direction. 

“Of course you would, you’re both one in the same, smart and pretentious, just wonderful.” Hermione ignored his comment and looked back at the letter. Was she blushing? Harry shook his head giving a pointed look at Ron.

“Listen, Ron, I think you’re brother’s a prat.” At this Ron raised his arms in the air mumbling a thank you into the air. “But I think you’re being an idiot.” Ron stared wide eyed at Harry.

“What?” He asked, voice low.

Harry sighed. “Look, your brother made a mistake and he left. Fine, you and everyone else were angry. Fine, but that was over a year ago. He’s apologizing. He’s making the first move. The least you could do would be to hear him out.” Ron scoffed again.

“You don’t know that. He’s probably realized he made a stupid mistake and now can’t face us, but needs protection. He’s a coward for running away and then thinking he can run back when he realized his shit choice.”

Harry sprang from his bed and walked up towards his friend. “You’re being an idiot. Can’t you just accept that maybe your brother is trying to make amends?”

“You don’t have a brother, you don’t know what it’s like when one betrays you!” Hermione gasped, ready to reprimand Ron, but Harry held his hand up.

“You’re right Ron, I don’t have any blood brothers, but I have you and I have Hermione! If either of you ever left, for whatever reason, I would get pissed. I’d be angry. I’d be hurt. But I’d still take you back if you asked, because that’s what brothers do! As an actual brother, Ron, you should know that.” They were inches away from each other’s faces, wands left forgot on their respective nightstands. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was really worried about Percy. She didn’t know him well, but she had looked up to him when she was younger. Merlin, she still looked up to him now, even though it was considerably less. He was by no means a genius, and talent, magical or physical, was lacking. But what really inspired Hermione was the fact that Percy knew all this, but tried anyway. He never gave up. He worked hard everyday and spent hours practicing and reading the theory behind it all. He always tried his best.  _ But,  _ she thought as she glanced over at Ron and then back to the letter,  _ at what cost? _

“You know what Harry, maybe one day you’ll find out.” Ron growled and hounded out the door, ripping the letter out of Hermione’s hand. Once out of sight, Hermione spoke up.

“Well, that went rather well. You don’t suppose he’s going to throw that letter in the fireplace, do you?” Harry shook his head.

“I don’t. He cares. He might not want to admit it, but he cares.” They both turned their heads as they heard frantic footsteps approaching. Suddenly Ginny was there, eyes narrowed.

“What the bloody hell was all that about?” She demanded, eyes flickering between Hermione and Harry. The smarter of the two took a deep breathe before beginning her explanation.

“Ron read the letter Percy sent him and it put him in an odd mood. Harry confronted him about it and, well, it wasn’t one of their worse ones, but it wasn’t pleasant.” The redhead stared at Hermione in confusion, before turning to set her sights on Harry.

“What do you mean you confronted him? About what?”

“I told him the truth. I pointed out that he was being an idiot by not, at least, trying to understand Percy’s apology. I’m not a fan of him, but he’s trying. Why can’t he give his own brother a chance?” Ginny’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“A chance?” A scoff. “What right does he have at a chance, Harry? He left us, not the other way around!” Harry groaned.  _ Not another one. _

“I get that! I’m not saying he wasn’t a git. All I’m saying is that he’s trying to make amends and both of you are going mental over it.” 

_ If looks could kill, Harry James Potter would no longer be with them.  _ Hermione thought as she watched the scene unfold. Despite the many differences between them, the Weasley siblings would always have something in common: anger. That was always their first reaction when they felt threatened. It made sense, since they wore their hearts on their sleeves.  _ Still, it makes conversations such as these a tad bit difficult, doesn’t it.  _

“Amends? Amends! He. Left. Us. He sent back mum’s sweater. He broke her heart. He broke dad’s heart. He betrayed us! Why should we give him a chance?” She yelled, eyes drilling holes into Harry’s. Fists clenched by her side.

“Why should you give him a chance? He’s your bloody brother, Ginny! Have any of you taken a second to think about how he might be feeling? Did you read these letters? They’re goodbye letters! Doesn’t that, I don’t know, worry you? Don’t you feel anything for him? It’s like you guys were quick to get rid of Percy and now that he’s trying to apologize it’s almost as if you’d rather keep him away!” Harry retaliated, his face flush with his anger.

“Harry!” Hermione reprimanded just seconds before Ginny stepped forward and backhanded the boy who lived. 

All three of them stood in shock at what had just transpired. Harry holding his left cheek, head tilted to the side. Hermione’s eyes switching back and forth between the couple, breathe held in wait of someone else’s first move. Ginny stared at her hand in confusion, before she turned her eyes to her boyfriend. The Weasley took in a breathe as she clenched her fist once more, bringing back to her side. 

“You don’t get to tell me how I bloody feel about my brother.” She stated in a clipped tone. “Sorry you had to see that Hermione.” She said before turning around and exiting the dorm room. 


	4. Ginny

“Ron?” She yelled as she ran down the corridors of Hogwarts.

“Ron?” Her footsteps were heavy on the stone floor, echoing slightly as she continued her search.

“Ron?” She stopped right before the doors of the Great Hall. She tried to think of places that her brother would go to hide, when out of the corner of her eye she stopped Neville exiting the Great Hall. 

“Neville!” She called as she ran over to him. The blond haired gryffindor frowned as he saw her approaching. 

“Ginny? Are you alright?” She nodded her head, before pausing and then shaking it instead. 

“Not really. Harry stuck his nose into some business he wasn’t a part of and now I need to find Ron. Did you happen to know where he is?” Neville shifted his eyes up as he tried to remember.

“I think I saw him stomp into the library. Does that have anything to do with Harry and his falling out?” Ginny nodded. 

“Probably.” She gave Neville a quick hug, thanking him, and then proceeded to run towards the library.

* * *

 

Ginny Weasley entered the library on a mission. Locate Ron and drag him out before he could cause any damage to the books or the people studying in the area.

As she scanned the endless amount of shelves she began to wonder if he had already been asked to leave. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a glimpse of red hair. Turning, she took notice of her older brother sitting in a small alcove near one of the larger windows in the back of the library. The were very few students near the area and those that were around sat a few feet away from Ron, either sleeping or about to.

She slowly walked over to him, coming to a stop just a step before her brother so as to not startle him. He spoke without ever taking his eyes off the piece of parchment held in his hand.

“He’s right. I don’t like being compared to him. At all.” Silence washed over them. Ginny watched as Ron fiddled with the letter in his hand and considering breaking the quiet herself, until Ron broke the silence.

“I don’t remember the last time anyone told me how proud they were of me. At least sincerely. How messed up is it that he’s the only one. Not even mum and dad. Course, I know they love me, but I don’t recall them ever saying they were proud of me. Figures, the one person I’d be glad to never see again is the one that tells me what I’ve always wanted to hear.” He chuckles, albeit without humour. 

“You’re a shit liar. Ron.” At that he finally gazed up at his sister, who wore a sad, small smile. She continued, sitting down next to him.

“You miss him.” Ron gave her a crooked smile, before turning to look out the window. Emotions and feelings were never his strong suit, then again, they weren’t Ginny’s either. Still, as he thought about Harry’s advice, albeit completely uncalled for, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it’d be easier to forgive than to keep on hating his brother.

“Remember that one time Percy slept in for class?” Ginny raised her eyebrows at the sudden question, but decided to go along with it.

“That was the day after Fred and George had kept him awake all night by setting exploding snaps to go off whenever he got near his bed, right?” Ron chuckled.

“Yup, and he ended up being late for Flitwick’s class by a whole half hour.” This time Ginny laughed as well.

“I remember! He came into the Great Hall for dinner and started yelling at the twins.”

“Merlin! Yes, and then the twins just looked at him with those faces that sometimes get them out of trouble and told him that they wanted him to enjoy the few years he had left to sleep in before he became a old grumpy man.” By this point both Weasleys were laughing, a tad bit too loud for the area they were in, but laughing nonetheless. 

“Do you remember Percy’s face?” Ron asked, wiping a few tears from his eyes. Ginny laughter died down and she stared solemnly ahead.

“Yeah. He looked….he looked hurt. Like we stabbed him in the back. Ron, do you think he knew that we were only joking?” Ron sobered up at the thought, eyes gazing out the window as he mulled over his response.

“I think, maybe, we knew he didn’t and we decided we were okay with that. ” Ginny took in a shuddery breath.

“I miss him Ron.” Her voice broke as she tilted her head into her brother’s shoulders. They were shaking and she realized that he must have started to cry as well.

“Me too, Gin, me too.” He rasped out, pulling her in closer. He turned his face into her hair and cried. She could yell at him later for getting snot in it but right he just wanted to know that at least his sister was here since Percy was not. And that may or may not have been partially their fault. And because of that Percy may or may not be alive right now, if the letter was any indication of a permanent goodbye. And they may or may not know how to feel about that.

Yes, Ginny and Ron were never really good at emotions or feelings.

  
But that didn’t mean they didn’t have them. 


	5. Fred and George

The first thing George liked to do after a long day at the shop was unlock the front door to Fred and his apartment, throw off his shoes, and plop down on the couch. While he was busy doing that, Fred would usually roll his eyes while taking off his own shoes, then make a beeline for the mail. George would wait until Fred finished fishing through the junk, usually coming into the living room to sit down next to his brother afterwards to discuss plans for the following day. They rarely ever got mail that wasn’t special requests for their products or their mother, and both could be dealt with in the morning. 

Today was different.

Instead of it taking his brother the usual three to five minutes to get the mail, it was taking what felt like an eternity. George sat up on the couch, staring at the doorway that separated the kitchen and the living room. He couldn’t see his brother from where he was sitting, so instead he tried to focus on the sound of moving paper. He cupped a hand around his ear, but heard nothing except silence. 

“Freddie? What’s taking so long? Did someone send us their knickers again?” He asked trying to snap his brother out of whatever was keeping him occupied. He heard the shuffling of feet and soon enough his brother came into sight, blue eyes trained on a piece of parchment he held in front of him. George looked at the letter confused.

“Whatcha got there Freddie?” Without taking his eyes of the paper, Fred quickly replied.

“It’s a letter...from Percy.” He tried to keep his tone of voice neutral, but George could tell he was shocked. George rolled his eyes and scoffed, leaning back against the couch with his arms stretched wide on either side.

“Ah, figures. And what type of knowledge has Percival the Prat decided to bestow on us this fine evening?” He asked smirking at his twin. The smirk slowly turned into a frown when Fred didn’t retort back with a joke of his own. Every now and then someone in their family would mention their brother, if they could even call him that, and they would do their part to alleviate the situation by dragging Percy’s name through whatever mud they could find.

“It’s not that kind of letter, Georgie.” Fred looked solemn, a look that George decided didn’t suit him well. Fred walked over and hand his twin the letter. When George gave it a once over, not really reading it, Fred rolled his eyes.

“Just take the damn thing and read it, you’ll see what I mean.” George huffed, but complied because honestly reading a boring ass letter was better than getting in a fight with Fred.

* * *

 

_ Dear Fred and George Weasley _

_ I know we’ve never really been on good terms with each other, you always pranking me and myself always trying to be someone I’m not cut out to be. But I want you both to know that I’ve never hated either of you. A shocking revelation, I know, but it is true none the less. Of course I’d be lying if I said that all your pranks were harmless. In fact a lot of the times you both decided I was the best to prank only served to reassure me that maybe I didn’t belong. I spent years thinking that you both hated me, that I was some plague on your fun time with others. And nowadays I can see why. I am a prat, I’m arrogant, I’m foolish, I obviously cannot determine between what’s right and wrong. But deep down I can’t understand why I’m not allowed to make mistakes, but everyone else is. But I digress, this isn’t a letter for those types of topics. _

_ What I want you both to essentially get out of this letter, if you read it this far, is that I love you. Ever since mother came home with both of you wrapped up in your matching outfits and blankets, I loved you. You both were my first baby brothers. I wanted to be someone you looked up to, I wanted to be the one who taught you cool things and built stuff with. I wanted us to hang out and annoy the crud out of Charlie and Bill. I’ll be damned, but I even wanted to get you both involved in pranking. Ironic that I would enjoy something like that, yet what’s even more ironic is that I got you your first pranking device. Simple water balloons from when father went to the London. I believe you both were two, or three. I filled them up for you, and you guys took off running up and down the stairs, flinging those darn things at people left and right. Poor mother almost had a conniption, but deep down I felt so happy. I felt like I belonged with someone in our large family. _

_ I can’t really tell when all that changed, when I started being the butt of the jokes and stopped enjoying what was around me. Maybe I became too full of myself, I’ve always had that problem. All I know is out of everyone of our family, I miss you both the most. You're my baby brothers, I love you more than you can imagine...or believe in this case. Maybe because with you both I didn’t think I’d be lonely anymore. Don’t tell anyone this, but you guys are my favorites. I hate whatever ripped us apart, and I hate it more because I can only blame myself. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused and will cause you both and the family. I just hope that even if you don’t forgive me, you’ll at least understand. _

_ Love your big prat of a brother, _

_ Percy Weasley _

* * *

 

“No.” George abruptly stated, tossing the letter onto the couch as he shot up. He paced over to the other side of the room, running both if his hands through his hair, then over his face. Fred rolled his eyes.

“What do you mean ‘no’? George didn’t you just-” Said twin spun around to look at his brother, eyes ablaze with rage.

“That’s not the point, Fred! He can’t do that. He can’t just fucking….leave and then write some bullshit letter like that...that’s not how it works.” Fred pursed his lips, trying to find some words to placate his brother, but George was incensed.

“I mean...he left us. He said the worst shit to dad, he made mum cry, he just didn’t fucking care and he left. He doesn’t get to cry wolf now. He doesn’t get to write a...a fucking letter and think that makes everything okay. It doesn’t, Fred.” Fred swallowed, running his own hand through his hair.

“We..we don’t really know that. “

“That’s bullshit”

“What if it was me?” George stood silent. “What if, in some different, weird circumstance, I worked at the ministry and I left. Would you hate me?” Fred asked softly.

“Freddie, I could never hate you, you’re my brother.”

“So is he, so what am I missing, because you seem adamant about just burning his memory out of your mind.”

“It’s not the same! It’s …”

“Just Percy, right? Just Percy.”

George sighed heavily as he ran his hand through his red locks. Perhaps Fred was right. Why should he treat Percy differently. He loved his brother. He loves him still. Try as he might, the divide between them was deep. The Percy he remember as a child wasn’t the same one he last saw walking into the Ministry, but he was very similar to the one who wrote the letter in Freddie’s hand. What had happened? The more George thought about it, the more he realized the moments that caused the rift.

* * *

 

_ The Burrow was colored in the yellow, orange, and red hues that went with the sun setting behind the fields that surrounded the Weasley home. The third eldest stood outside in the chilly April afternoon, watching with eyebrows furrowed as his twin brothers flew around on brooms. _

_ “George, Fred, be careful. You aren’t supposed to be doing that.” _

_ “Ah, come on Percy, don’t be so boring.” Fred snickered as they both continued to fly around on Charlie and Bill’s broom sticks. Percy stood terrified as he watched his five year old brothers fly higher and higher in the air. He hated heights, but he needed to get them down or else they’d hurt themselves badly. _

_ “If you both don’t come down here this minute, I’m getting mum.” He shouted. Both sets of eyes locked in on him. _

_ “You wouldn’t dare get us in trouble.” _

_ “Not on our birthdays, mum will make us wait till tomorrow to get our presents.”  _

_ “Well then get down here, and I won’t have to-”  _

_ “Frederick and George Weasley, get your little tushes off those broomsticks and back on the ground.” Mrs. Weasley screamed from the front door. She had heard Percy shout something and she decided to go see what all the ruckus had been about. She stomped outside and stood next to Percy, who instinctively flinched at the sound of his mother’s angered voice. _

_ “You both have lost your presents for today. After dinner we’ll have your birthday desserts and then off to bed, do you understand me.” She then turned to her other son. “Thank you deary, Merlin knows what would have happened had you not gotten my attention.” _

_ Fred and George were close enough to the ground when they heard their mother speak to Percy. They shared a look, before glaring at their older brother. They stomped their little feet as they headed back inside, pointedly ignoring Percy’s apologies. _

_ Later that night when they had been sent straight to bed, Percy decided once more to apologize. He hadn’t meant for them to get in trouble, he just didn’t realize how loud he had been. He didn’t intentionally want to draw in his mother’s attention. He reached the twin’s bedroom, and taking a deep breath, knocked on the door.  _

_ Nothing. _

_ He tried again and again, before finally giving up and just opening the door. Inside both boys were tucked in their beds, sitting up, coloring on a piece of parchment they probably found on their father’s desk. They both looked up to see who had entered, and once they verified who it was, turned back to their art. Percy sighed and walked in further. _

_ “Hey, um, I’m sorry about accidentally getting you guys in trouble this afternoon. I didn’t mean for mum to find out.” He was met with the sound of charcoal scratching on parchment. _

_ “I mean it, I’m really sorry. I didn’t want you guys to lose presents or get punished.” When he was met with silence once more, he tried a different tactic. _

_ “So what did you both wish for on your cake?” At that both boys stopped and looked up at him. George spoke first. _

_ “We wished that you were never our brother.” Percy leaned back a tad at the anger that came out of his younger brother’s voice. Surely they knew he hadn’t meant it. _

_ “But, I..why?” He asked, his voice wavering. This time Fred answered. _

_ “You betrayed us, by telling on us. We don’t want a betrayer for a brother.”  _

_ “But, I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”  _

_ “No you did it on purpose, you wanted us to get in trouble!” _

_ “And we don’t like it when people do that, that’s mean!” _

_ “We don’t like you anymore, so go away!”  _

_ “Yay, you’re not our brother anymore.” _

_ Percy wanted to say something, anything really to get them to understand, but it seemed they had made up their minds. He mumbled a quick ‘fine’ before he darted out of the room, not even bothering to close the door.  _

* * *

 

George groaned at the memory. Fred looked up at his twin steeling himself for what he was about to ask.

“I know he hurt us. I don’t like what he did anymore than you do, but he’s our brother. He’s Percy. He’s trying, for the first time since I can remember he’s not reprimanding us, he’s not telling us what to do, he’s trying to reach out to us. To let us in. He’s trying to be our big brother. I miss him Georgie and I know you do too. All I ask is that you give him a chance. If not for Percy or for me, for mum and dad. You’ve seen them. They need him, they need their son back.”

George scoffed, rolling his eyes at his twin. Fred blinked, staring at his brother incredulously. 

“What is your problem?” George turned, all amusement gone from his face.

“My problem? My problem is that you’re buying into his bullshit, Fred. Really, mum and dad need their traitor son back, are you shitting me? What the bloody hell are the rest of us Freddie? The neighbors next door? Are we not enough?” He yelled, his cheeks becoming flushed with his irritation. Fred glared back at his brother, cheeks becoming equally as flushed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know that! George, mum and dad need all of us. All. Of. Us. Percy is part of us. Why is that so hard for you?” Fred asked, eyebrows furrowed and arms by his side. George looked up and took a deep breath. After several moments of silence, he answered.

“You’re right, Freddie. I do miss him. I miss him a lot, but...I can’t just accept that.” He gestured towards the letter in Fred’s hand. “I can’t pretend that this is alright, that nothing happened. I...I need to leave.” 

George walked over to the entrance of their apartment, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his coat. 

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Out.” And with that George walked out of the door, leaving Fred to stare at his retreating back with confusion and worry.


	6. Charlie

Charlie wasn’t the type of man to worry. He wasn’t. He liked to have fun, be free, be rebellious. He enjoyed the outdoors, he enjoyed his job, he enjoyed the morning air and the sun on his face. He was laid back. In fact, out of all the Weasleys he was the one who rarely get angry. 

Which is why when he first read Percy’s letter, he didn’t cry, he didn’t worry. He did what any man such as he would do. He grabbed a portkey to Diagon Alley.

And went straight to a pub.

Yes, Charlie Weasley could admit that he quite liked a drink whenever his life took a more serious turn. Not to avoid said turn, but to better cope with it. He believes this was a habit passed down from Uncle Bilius to him. And he was perfectly alright with this. 

What he wasn’t so alright with was finding one of his younger brothers at the same pub trying, desperately, to avoid the serious turn their life had just taken.

“George? Is that you?” Said fellow looked up from his glass with his eyes half shut, trying to focus on the young dragon trainer. After a few minutes he finally recognized his brother and his face broke into a large, albeit sloppy, grin.

“Charlie! Long see no time!” He yelled across the pub. Charlie winced. While this wasn’t the first time he’d seen his brother drunk, this was the first he’d seen him this drunk. George attempted to walk over to him but stumbled and Charlie had to practically run over to catch him before his face met the ground. 

“Alright, let’s get you some fresh air, mate. And some water.” The older of the two suggested. George laughed in response.

* * *

 

Once outside George turned slightly green and promptly vomited the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk.Charlie rubbed circles along his back to soothe him.

“I don’t suppose Fred knows you’re here?” All he got was a shake of George’s head and some vomit on his shoe as an answer.

“Of course. Alright, let’s get you home.” Suddenly George struggled against his brother’s grip, twisting and turning before he wormed his way out of it.

“No.” He mumbled, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. Charlie sighed, joining his brother on the sidewalk.

“Fine. How about this: You drink some water, sober up a bit, and tell me what’s wrong. I will sit my arse here and listen, then I’ll take you home. Deal?” George nodded and took the water bottle from Charlie’s outstretched hand. After taking some sips and a deep breath or two, George finally spoke up.

“I got a letter from Percy today.” At this Charlie took a deep breath of his own, a quiet sound of understanding encouraging his younger brother to go forward.

“Well, it was a letter to both me and Freddie.” Charlie smirked.

“You mean, Fred and I, right?” George snorted. 

“You sound just like...just like Percy.” George took a few more sips from the water bottle and closed his eyes, face tilted upwards.

“Merlin, I don’t even know where to begin.” He brought his head back down, eyes staring straight ahead. “I didn’t take the letter well. Fred, he, well, he’s worried about Percy. He really wants to believe that Percy is coming back. I don’t think he is.”

“Why not?” George let out a humorless laugh. 

“You got a letter didn’t you Charlie? Since when does someone come back after writing a goodbye letter?” Charlie winced at the tone of George’s voice. He was used to his brother always being, happy and optimistic. This George next to him wasn’t the same one he grew up with.

“Look, maybe the letter seems a bit ominous, but that doesn’t prove---”

“Bullocks, Charlie! We don’t even know where the bloody hell he lives! How the hell can we be sure?” George had turned to face Charlie, his face flushed due to a mix of alcohol and anger. Suddenly his eyes welled up and he spoke once more.

“He’s supposed to be here, Charlie. He wasn’t supposed to leave. I thought that if he was happy, that was fine he could be happy and wrong, by himself. I didn’t need him. But then I read the letter and he’s miserable. And instead of feeling happy that he’s getting what he deserves, I’m scared. That letter scared me. How will we know if something happens? How will we be able to stop him? What if he already...” George ran a hand through his hair, blinking up at the night sky.

“What if he’s already gone? What do we do then?” George could feel Charlie tense up next to him. Silence reigned over the two for a long time. George played with the empty bottle in his hand and Charlie. Charlie tried to remember how to breathe. 

It was George who broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“We should go. Fred’s probably worried.” He jumped up and stretched, dramatically from one side to the next, bending forward to touch his toes last. 

“Boy, I sure hope Fred isn’t too mad. He reminds me of mum when he’s angry. Scary sight to be honest.” The younger Weasley reached out his hand towards his brother.

“Come on then, you have to escort me home after all.”

* * *

A knock on the door at half past one is what woke Fred up from his not so restful nap on the couch. Little did he know who would be behind the door.

“Charlie? George?”

“Heey, Freddie!” George practically screamed as Charlie struggled to drag him inside. Fred moved out of the way, staring incredulously at his older brother. Charlie sighed.

“He’s drunk, I’ve come to put him to bed. Don’t worry though, I’m sure the hangover he’ll have tomorrow will teach him a lesson.” Fred nodded and led his brother to their bedrooms. George upon seeing his bed made a mad dash and jumped onto it, shoes and coat still on. The other siblings in the room sighed and opted to leave him the way he had come in. Still, Fred left a glass of water and a hangover potion beside his brother’s bedside for the morning. Slipping out of George’s room, he closed the door and made his way over to the kitchen, where Charlie was making himself at home.

Charlie looked up from the sandwich he was making and shrugged his shoulders.

“I forgot how difficult it was to babysit my drunk brothers. Builds up an appetite.” Fred rolled his eyes, before slipping into the chair at the head of his table.

“He’s not drunk anymore. I must admit though that was a good show.” Charlie choked on his sandwich.

“Drunk George always, and I mean always takes off his shoes before jumping into bed. Of course sober George doesn’t know that because well, his memory while drunk isn’t the greatest.” Fred smirked. “Nice try though.” Charlie continued to stare a Fred for a little longer before he let out a small laugh.

“It never ceases to amaze me how well you both know each other.” Fred let out small smile of his own before his face turned somber.

“I’m guessing you didn’t go to a pub simply to find George.” When he was met with the sounds of chewing and swallowing he continued. “You got a letter from Percy too.”

It wasn’t a question, because, well Fred knew. In the pit of his stomach he knew. Each and everyone of them would receive a letter, a reminder of what they were about to lose, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Fred was ripped from his thoughts when Charlie cleared his throat.

“You want to know a secret, Fred?” Quirking an eyebrow, Fred nodded in response, if only to get rid of the weird, almost regretful look on his older brother’s face.

“You remember Oliver Wood, right?” Fred snorted, of course he knew Oliver. The man was a nut when it came to anything Quidditch related and Merlin knows Charlie had taken a liking to the kid’s enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I remember him, but why is he relevant to our current situation?” Charlie leaned back on the chair and tilted his head up to focus on the ceiling.

“Hmm, remember how we all used to think he’d never get a girlfriend cause all he thought about was Quidditch and whether we had done well enough at practice.” Fred chuckled at the memory.

“We tried charming his broom to speak in a female voice to see if maybe then he’d show some interest.” A pause. “Are you telling me Oliver’s finally found a lady friend?”

“Not quite. Turns out Oliver wasn’t blind to women, he just didn’t prefer them. Liked blocks.” Fred raised his eyebrow.

“No offense Charlie, but you haven’t seen this kid in years and from what I remember, Oliver never showed any interest in anyone unless they were on his team.” Charlie allowed a self-deprecating smirk to appear across his lips and those regret filled eyes stared back at Fred with a ferocious intensity. 

“That’s because I made sure he stayed focused on Quidditch.” 

“Charlie, what did you do?” 

“Remember when I was in my last years of Hogwarts, well you weren’t really there until your first year, but I had become slightly obsessed with dragons, thrills, and of course Quidditch. My plan was win the House Cup, pass all my O.W.L.S., get into the training program of becoming a Caretaker of Dragons in Romania, and live the rest of my life in some weird sort of thrilling adventure, with danger and excitement at every corner.” Fred only nodded.

“Yes, well, surely as you can deduce, Percy and I weren’t the most compatable of brothers. He liked rules, schedules, and he always, always, made sure to stay out of trouble. He was cautious, or as I thought at the time, boring. A hindrance if you will.” Fred nodded again for Charlie to continue and leaned forward to rest crossed arms on the table. Charlie took a deep breathe.

“Imagine my surprise when the best Quidditch Prodigy I knew, the kid I thought was as crazy as me, even if it wasn’t about dragons, came up to me and asked me about Percy. At first I thought he was just curious, cause you know, we’re complete opposites, Percy and I. Except that every time I saw Oliver after that, he was always near him. Always talking to him. And Percy, he loved it! Sure, he looked annoyed at first, but then he’d smile, a little smile, but it was there and he was happy, and I…” Fred looked at him expectantly, like a child listening to their parent tell an exciting story.

“I ruined it. For the both of them. I remember Percy coming up to me, he was probably in his second or maybe even his first year and he just looked at me, with like really big eyes. He looked at me and asked if it was okay to like boys even though he was a boy. Do you know what I said?”

Fred stared at Charlie in shock, his mind quickly patching up a scenario of it’s own, none of which were positive. 

“I told him no. I was so angry that Oliver found him interesting that I broke his little heart. Told him he was broken, something was wrong. Told him to stay away or else he might get some one else infected. I..” Charlie sucked in another breath and cleared his throat. “I hurt him. He was so distraught afterwards, but I didn’t even think to apologize. He started avoiding Oliver, a lot, and when Ollie asked me what was wrong I told him that Percy just didn’t like him that much. He was upset and heartbroken. Merlin, I was such a shitty brother.” Fred just stared at Charlie, various emotions flashing through his eyes. He went to say something, anything but someone else beat him to it.

“How could you do that?” Both boys turned to see George standing at the entrance of the kitchen, both having failed to notice him previously due to the conversation. He stepped in and sat beside his twin, face twisted in confusion and anger.

“You out of all of us knew just how hard it was to feel the same way about girls like every other block at school! You who ended up not being interested in man or women, only bloody dragons! How could you do that to him? He’s was your younger brother, Charlie!”

“Is. He is my younger brother.” George snorted humorlessly.

“You better hope so! I mean I can’t believe you actually said that to him!” Fred retaliated. 

“You don’t think I know that! I spent years, hoping that he’d forget it, because I didn’t think I could ever face him. And then he sends me this.” Charlie flung his folded letter across the table. The twins opened the letter and read it together.

After several minutes the twins put down the letter, taking in what they had read. Fred broke the silence first.

“I guess we all messed up.” Charlie laughed. 

“I don’t think what I did counts as a mess up, but more as a fuck up.” He placed his head in his hands and when he spoke once more it was thick with tears. “He said he forgave me because that’s what brothers do. But big brothers aren’t supposed to hurt their younger brothers, at least not like that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven that easily.”

“Look,” George started as he made his way over to where Charlie was having his breakdown. “Percy isn’t a saint, he’s done some questionable things, but I agree that you definitely got off way too easily. How about this, we get Bill, find out where Percy is hiding, and convince him that suicide is not the answer. Punching you in the face is.” Charlie let out a watery chuckle and Fred rolled his eyes while a smile played out across. 

“How about we all pass out for a couple of hours and then tomorrow, George will the tell Lee to hold down the shop, and we’ll all go barge into Bill’s house looking for info.” Charlie and George nodded their heads and reluctantly made their way towards the bedrooms.

  
Tomorrow would be another difficult day.


	7. Bill

As the older brother in the Weasley clan, Bill always felt the never ending pressure of having to make sure every one of his younger siblings were okay. With that said, as they got older, he relinquished some of his concerns for Charlie, for Ginny, for everyone. Especially Percy. To Bill, his second younger seemed to always be in control. In fact, for a better part of his life at the Burrow, Bill was convinced that Percy was the one who should have been the eldest.

He always exuded this demeanor of practiced control, poise, and confidence. He would always sit straight with his head held high. Whenever he was spoken to he would make a point to focus his attention on the speaker, eyes locked with the other person, completely engaged. Of course, whenever Bill saw Percy act that way, he felt disconnected from his brother. He was the total opposite of everyone else in the family that, it was hard to know him. To talk to him even. He felt bad about it, but it was like they weren’t even brothers at times. 

Yet as he read and re-read the letter his little brother sent him, he began to consider that maybe he should have paid closer attention. Maybe when Percy put on his authoritarian act, he was trying to hide his insecurities. It had always been clear to everyone that Percy was not like the others, he was quirky in different ways. He liked books, not broomsticks. He like order, not full blown chaos. He liked rules to be followed, not regarded as guidelines. Everyone noticed the difference, Percy was bound to notice too. As the older brother, he should have seen what that was doing to his brother.

He went to re-read the letter for the emptienth time when he felt a delicate, but firm hand on his shoulder. He glanced up to see his wife staring softly at him.

“Bill, love, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” She spoke softly, removing her hand from his shoulder, and pulling up one of the kitchen table chairs to sit beside him. Once seated she placed her hand on his wrist, gently pushing the letter away from her husband’s eyesight. He turned to face Fleur, his brows brows furrowed.

“I understand how hard it is to feel like you failed your younger sibling. When I couldn’t save Gabrielle at the tournament, I” she paused, taking in a shaky breath. “I thought that I had lost her for good. And for weeks after that I felt utterly horrible. I was so ashamed that I let that happened, I mean, what kind of older sister was I to have almost let my sister die? I felt like a failure, because I felt that I let her down.” She wiped her tears with the back of her one hand, and let out a choked laugh. 

“I remember that around that time you kept asking me to go to dinner with you over and over again. And I just kept turning you down, because I was so wrapped up in my head. I had preferred to be miserable than to go out with a gorgeous man like you.” Bill chuckled. “And I remember at some point, after the twentieth failed attempt you asked why? And I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know how to explain it. So I made up some stupid excuse about not being interested and you looked like a kicked puppy and I felt so bad, but I thought you deserved better than someone who couldn’t save their own sister.” She felt her husband wrap his palm around her hand, the one keeping the letter at bay. She smiled. 

“My friend, Etienne, he stormed into my house a few weeks after that. Just burst through my living room door and demanded that I, and I quote, ‘Go up to that ginger goodness of a man who you’ve been drooling over since day one and ask him out.’ He dragged me out of my house, told me to stop moping around and that if Gabrielle hadn’t held it against me, why should I do it to myself.” Bill let out a loud laugh, looking back at his wife, smirking. 

“I’m ginger goodness.” She rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of it. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Anyway, I did, after apologizing for hurting your feelings before hand, and we ate. And we talked. And you listened and understood. Do you remember what you told me?” Bill shifted his eyes to the left, scrunching up his eyebrows, before shaking his head. 

“You told me that I couldn’t control what happened. That it wasn’t my fault. I’m only human and because of that I’ll make mistakes. The only option I have afterwards is to move on and learn from them. That the most important thing was that she was okay now.” Bill blinked a few times before relaxing at his wife’s words.

“I’m giving you the same advice now. It’s not your fault that Percy fell through the cracks. You may be the older brother Bill, but you can’t watch over everyone. The few times I’ve met your brother, he was very polite, but he was very reserved. If that was how he was at home, none of you would ever have been the wiser. You’re human Bill. You couldn’t have known. And, unfortunately, you can’t change the past. But you can apologize. You can do better. From what your mother told me about what happened, it sounds like both sides were out of line. So forgive yourself and move forward, darling.”

Bill removed his hand from his wife’s hand used it to cover his face, specifically his eyes. Fleur watched as her husband’s shoulders started to shake. She watched his lip quiver and heard him sniffle. She got up from her seat to stand to the left of her husband and wrapped him up in her arms, as he turned his face inwards to hide it in her dress. She pet his hair as he sobbed, repeating “He’s my little brother. How could I do that to him?” She laid a kiss on the crown of his head as a response.

A few minutes later she felt him pull back, hands going to his face to wipe away his tears furiously. She heard him mutter a choked thank you, and she reached back for her chair with one hand, the other was clasping one of Bill’s. 

“You know he used to follow me around when we were younger? He couldn’t have been older than, Merlin, three or four. He would just trail behind Charlie and I, like a little puppy. Big bright eyes, always interested in what we were doing. Like we had all the answers.” He let out a chuckle at the memory. “He even followed us into the bathroom sometimes. Mum thought it was adorable, Charlie and I on the other hand, well, it annoyed us. So then I got this stupid idea to get him to quit it. I decided that if I embarrassed him enough, he’d stop.” He took in a shuddery breath.

“It worked alright, it worked miracles. We embarrassed him, ignored him, hid from him. It was awful Fleur. He was just trailing behind us. Charlie and I had wanted to play quidditch, but he was too little, but he really wanted to go with us. Charlie had suggested that we just play on the ground with him, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to fly and Percy was holding us back. So I gave Charlie a broom and got on mine and we flew away, leaving him on the ground. I could hear him calling out to us, asking us to come down, not to leave him buy himself, but I ignored him. We both did. And then we stopped hearing him. When we looked down he was making his way back inside and we were so happy that we played for hours without him. It was dark by the time we made it inside. Nothing seemed different once we were at home, Percy seemed fine, if not a bit more quiet.

“It was later that night. The twins were sleeping, Charlie was passed out on top of his bed. Percy was asleep, or at least thought. I was thirsty, so I went downstairs for a cup of water, planning on just seeing my mum. But as I’m walking down the stairs, all I hear is crying, like heavy crying, and I heard my mum asking what was wrong. I peeked out behind the wall, and on my mum’s lap was Percy, just sobbing hysterically to the point he couldn’t even speak. My mum was just rubbing circles on his back, trying to calm him down. I swear he looked like he was having an attack of some sorts, I was terrified. I don’t think any of us every cried like that. 

“At some point he calmed down enough to get a coherent sentence out, and what he said Fleur, it broke my heart.” He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes, before he continued. “He asked my mum why we hated him. Why we didn’t want to be his big brothers. And then, he apologized for being a bad little brother. I was devastated. The next morning I went up to him and apologized for the day before, but the damage was done. I even offered to play with him, but he just shook his head and went to go hide behind my mom’s skirt.” 

He laid his head in his hand, the other enclosed in Fleur’s, and sighed. “How do I make up for that?” He asked.

“Well, there’s really only one way to start to fix the problem?” He looked up at his wife, looking for her eyes.

“What?” 

“You grab your family and you apologize.”


	8. Molly and Arthur

The sun was high in the sky when Hermes slammed into the window just above the kitchen at the Burrow. Molly let out a screech, hand coming up to clutch at her heart. She looked over to where Hermes stumbled about, letters in his beak. 

“Merlin, this stupid animal almost gave me a heart attack.” She snatched the letters from him, looking quickly down at who it were from. When she read the name of the sender she almost fainted. Quickly grabbing the nearest chair, she sat, tenderly holding the letters in her hand. 

Molly continued to stare at the letters as a feeling of uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. She was alone in the house, Arthur at the Ministry. Molly took a deep breath and opened the letter addressed to her.

* * *

Arthur Weasley was a simple man. He enjoyed muggle mysteries, his family, his job, and Molly. His favorite part about his wife was the fact that she could take care of herself. She managed to raise six boys and a fierce, yet gentle young lady. Arthur wouldn’t dream of being able to handle staying at home raising seven Weasleys. He was convinced that nothing in the world could stop her. Yet, all day, he was plagued with this feeling, this need to see if she was alright.

He almost made it through the day, but the feeling got stronger and stronger. He apologized to his boss and left before lunch. 

When arrived back at the Burrow, he realized it was quiet. Too quiet. Without his children the house seemed lifeless, but this day it seemed eerie. He unlocked the door, stepped in, and waited for Molly to do the usual check-in to confirm. 

“Molly? Molly!” Feeling his heartbeat quicken he ran up the stairs, hoping she was just simply cleaning up or sleeping in bed. Anything, but the dark alternative that was playing in his head. He stopped running when he heard shuffling in one of his son’s bedrooms. He moved towards it and with a heavy heart realized it was Percy’s bedroom. The room of his estranged son. He sighed gently pushing open the door, finding Molly sitting in a chair gingerly holding what he remembers as Percy’s favorite teddy. He took a seat opposite his wife, on his son’s bed. 

For the first time in years Arthur took a look at his son. Perhaps not his person, but his personality, at the parts that made him, well Percy. He took in the bed that he sat on, it’s blue comforter and white sheets. Pristine, clean, neatly made, so Percy-like. He wouldn’t be surprised to find a book beneath the pillow. His eyes travel upwards to the shelf above the bed, a little less neat, but still up the his son’s standards. There stood a picture of eleven year old Percy with Oliver Wood draping an arm around the red head’s shoulders. He remembers when he took that picture. When he saw how Percy had a friend that wasn’t necessarily related to him or a teacher, he couldn’t resist taking a picture. He remembers thinking that had that been any other boy, Percy would have told him off, but with this Oliver boy his son showed a special fondness. His eyes continued to gaze across the shelf. Past the pictures, his OWL scores, his Prefect Bag, and his Head Boy Badge. His eyes landed on his bookcase, adjacent to the window. Of course all his textbooks were there, lined perfectly by height and color. To his surprise though there were some scattered papers a top some of the books, one looked suspiciously like the pamphlet for the twins’ shop. 

“Do you remember when we got him this?” Molly’s soft voice broke through the silence. Arthur looked at the teddy, a sad looking thing really. It was missing an eye, his side was torn, and it simply looked ratty. But he can recall a time where his son took it everywhere, one eye or not.

* * *

 

_ “Percy, you really should leave that here at home.” Molly asked her youngest son at the time. He shook his head, clutching the bear closer to his chest. _

_ “No, mummy, he’s my friend. I love Mr. Bear.” She sighed. She knelt down in front of her son and placed a hand on his shoulder. _

_ “Percy, sweetie, Mr.Bear is a little broken. Don’t you think you should leave him here, he might get worse outside.” Percy shook his head again. _

_ “No, mummy, Mr. Bear is only a little broken, but it sokay. Because even though he broken, he’s still Mr. Bear. And he’s my friend.” She turned to her husband. _

_ “Good luck with Mr. Bear, dear, seems our son if very fond of him.” Arthur chuckled and lifted his son and Mr. Bear up onto his shoulders. He patted his son’s ankles, smiling when he heard him giggling. _

_ “Don’t worry Molly, I’ll take care of them both.” _

* * *

 

“I don’t remember, but boy did he love that thing.” He smiled, a small smile, barely visible more melancholy than anything. Molly continued to stare at the bear.

“Where did we go wrong Arthur?” She whispered into the air. He shook his head. “I don’t know my love. What’s got you like this?” She stayed still for a while before she handed him a letter. He took and froze staring at the handwriting on the envelope. There was no doubt about who it was from, but why was his son sending him a letter now?

“Molly, dear, I don’t-” He didn’t get to finish his thought before his wife started shaking her head. She took a deep breathe and look straight into his eyes.

“I’ve read mine Arthur. Just read yours, don’t ask why, just read it.” With that she glanced back down at the teddy bear, pulling closer. Arthur carefully opened the letter, dreading the contents inside. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Percy’s anger, but lack there of. Pulling out the letter he began to read.

* * *

_ Hey dad. _

_ I know that I’ve been a horrible son and that I let my pride, my stupid dreams,  and my ambitions get in the way. You were right and I’m sorry I didn’t listen. Please understand though, that I deserved to be angry. I spent my whole life trying to please you. My WHOLE life trying to make you recognize ME for my OWN achievements. Do you know how much I hated being compared to the others, how much I wished that you could only pay attention to me. _

_ When I walked in that day with my promotion I thought you’d be proud. I was waiting for ‘Wow, my boy is doing splendid at the Ministry. I’m so proud of him.’ Yet you didn’t. You just yelled at me, told me I was stupid and naive and you were right but damn if it didn’t bloody sting. You couldn’t even pretend to be happy. That’s all I wanted, was to make you proud. I’m sorry for what I said, the comments about your job. I sounded vile, I was vile, but truth is I’m envious because I’ll never be able to love my work with the same passion as you.  _

_ I remember when the twins were younger, you took me to London to get them something. I walked into a muggle store and saw these latex water balloons. They were up really high and I reached and reached, but I was too small. Then I felt your big hands around my tiny waist lift me up so that I could grab them. I felt so big and safe and loved. I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I miss that dad, I miss you. I’m so sorry for what I said, I hate myself for it because I know I hurt you. I never wanted that. _

_ All I wanted was for you to look at me the way you looked at Bill when he became Head Boy, when Charlie became the Captain of the Quidditch team, when Fred and George said Dada at the same time, when Ron beat Uncle Bilius at Chess when he was six, hell when Ginny was born. I wanted to be looked at like that, with love and pride. I know I was never going to be your favorite son, but you were my favorite. You were my hero.  I just wanted you to see me as who I was, someone to be proud of. But I messed up and you didn’t care enough to stop me from leaving. So I guess this is goodbye. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the son you wanted, but you won’t have to deal with that for long. Thank you for being my dad, even though I was never a good son. _

_ I love you, Dad. _

* * *

“Arthur?” He thinks he heard his wife whisper. He doesn’t register her standing and walking over, teddy bear lying forgotten on the ground next to the chair. All he can think about is his son, his little boy, terrified and alone. All he sees is little Percy with the sun in his hair, smiling up at him, missing both front teeth, and a big red book in his hand saying, “Thank you Daddy!” All he sees is little Percy’s bright eyes when he gets Bill’s old school things and he’s so happy to be going to Hogwarts. He blinks, and he’s sure he’s crying, because all he sees is eleven year old Percy become older and older, and colder, and more into himself. When did he stop smiling? When did he stop laughing? When did he start pushing everyone away? When did he start thinking he wasn’t a Weasley? How could he have let his son slip through his grasp like this? His son who looked up to him, even when he was turned away? His son who would sit with him in his shed and watched him tinker with muggle artifacts, laughing and continuously pushing his too big for his face glasses, because “Mommy, I wanna be just like daddy when I get big.”

He swallows thickly, his emotions stuck in his throat like shards, and that’s what he feels like. Like shards. Like his whole world was flipped around, everything he believed crashing and shattering, and he feels Molly wrap her arms around him. Pushing his head towards her bosom, and he hears her crying, softly, knowingly. He gasps for breathe. “What have I done? ” he chokes out. Molly answers, voice wavering. “No Arthur, what have we done?” 

  
They stay like this for hours, parents holding each other, husband and wife, father and mother. Torturing themselves as they replay every moment, every second of their lives. Grasping for any signs that they missed, any sign that was calling out. Any sign to get their son back. And as they criticize every mistake that they made a teddy bear lies forgotten on the floor, next to a chair, in the room of a boy too often forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two more chapters left of this piece, but I hope that this will be enough for a little. Don't worry, I won't wait another two years.
> 
> Thank you again, to everyone who enjoyed this. All your comments and kudos are very much appreciated.


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